if home is where the heart is...

... i can't decide where home is. i used to think my home, if it is truly where my heart is, is in india. now, i think it's lost somewhere between india and egypt and wherever j is. i'm back in the states, at the very least, and here i'll stay until, insha'allah, june. from there, i/ we'll head once again to india and i'll "stop by egypt on my way home."

i am still slightly jetlagged, a fact which hits me rather forcefully (forcibly? i'm tired.) at about 8pm. it will probably also be reflected here in my lack of eloquence (not that i'm usually eloquent, but i like to think that every once in a while i can write well. :))

it is an ever increasing struggle for me to be present in my day to day life here. i was talking with my bff from high school yesterday and he said something that i want to remember every time i get lost my daydreams of being elsewhere. i was talking to him about how i'm envious of j's life at MESP and m said, "k, there are a lot of people who would love to have your life." i want to be mindful of the fact that i'm working (read: getting paid!) for a cause i believe in, and that my job, the organization i work for actually pulls kids out of the gutters. on top of that, i get to travel to india, to the country that stole my heart and taught me how to live outside myself. i get to continue to build relationships with people i have met and grown to love there, and i get to do that face to face. i get to travel to little villages in middle india and fall in love with precious little boys in a village who prostrate themselves on the floor of a church for prayer. i was able to go to a graduation ceremony for 47 children who made history standing on that stage in their caps and gowns. this is an incredible gift, and just because i'm not gallivanting across the middle east or india every day of my life does not give me license to forget that.

i am going to try my best to remember this in the long months ahead between this trip and my next, and seek to give meaning to what i do here in the office through that knowledge. i could certainly use reminders when whiny kandyce rises to the surface- please consider this permission to do so.

having said all of that stuff about wanting to remember, i was struck today by how little i actually pray. what if i used my time here in the states to pray? what if i prayed for my kids in pipe village like i actually believed it would make a difference? what if i asked God to free them from bonded labor like i believed He could, and would? these little guys in the photograph posted above have been on my heart these past few days since my return. i want my faith to match theirs.

this will be my last post here for a while. until next time, thanks for reading, commenting and reflecting on my adventure(s) with me.

p.s.

and, mumkin, i should change the title of this blog to reflect travels in more of the world than just india? :)

sinai: desert and mountain and sea

as usual, please forgive my run-on sentances and bad grammar. while traveling, editing my writing is low on my list of priorities. :)

the sunrise from mount sinai was, in short, incredible. we spent about 5 hours trekking up a camel path in the dark, with headlamps and book lights and cell phones to keep us from tripping over our own feet and the rocks in the path. as we were hiking, every once in a while i'd turn off my headlamp and look up, look around at the incredible star-strewn sky nestled between HUGE sloping, rocky mountains and breathe a word of thanks.

we climbed and we climbed and we continually refused weathered looking bedouin men leading camels upward and we climbed and we climbed. tiny little mud huts dotted the hillside, offering a seat and small source of heat and light and lots of overpriced tea and western candybars. as we sat under the black, black sky and rested and waited for everyone to catch up, people from all over the world filtered in and out, speaking italian and korean and french and german, all pressing on toward the summit.

the path was incredibly rocky, and as we neared the top we began to climb a set if stairs which, had i seen them in the daylight, i would have been very wary of. (alissa, one of jon's MESP alum friends, says the monks who hung out in the nearby monestary had to build them as penance. what sins could warrent such punishment??) it was really quite cold. some of our egyptian friends who came along had never seen snow before, and there were a few patches on the western side of the mountain which they used for snowball fights and snowmen. :)

we made it to the top just as the sky began to lighten and found our seats on the eastern face. from the mountain, the desolate landscape stretched out as far as we could see- and all i could see was desert. literally, piles of rocks and sand and patches of snow. (why in the world would anyone want to take over the sinai? and how in the world could anyone wander in this desert for 40 years?) as the sun rose slowly in the sky it fell on the jagged profiles of the mountains and filled the valleys with orange light, and pilgrims at the top blew shofars and sang hymns and welcomed the morning. and what a morning it was!

after climbing the mountain, we drove through more desert and past more mountains to dahab, a little touristy town on the shores of the red sea. dahab is about 10 miles (?) from saudi arabia, and when the sun sets it reflects red off the cliffs. we ate breakfast/ lunch/ dinner in these little restaurants along the "boardwalk" with egyptian tents for walls and sat on big cushions on the floor, fending off cats and listening to the gentle waves lap against the shore. at night, the restaurants light firebowls and lamps and candles and the whole atmosphere is really cozy and lends itself well to more "i love egypt" moments.

we spent all day friday lounging around on the shores of the red sea, making small conversation with bedouin children and women in nikab (again, forgive my spelling) trying to sell bracelets and necklaces to scantily clad white tourists. (i'm not sure why speedos transcend culture, but i wish they didn't.)

saturday morning was our morning for snorkling- the weather was beautiful and the water cold. i stayed in just long enough to find nemo, but completely enjoyed my morning lazing around on the dock, talking with students and watching two little bedouin sisters take turns launching themselves off the dock into the water. the culture in dahab is funny- it's very tourist oriented, but very egyptian at the same time. white people snorkling and scuba diving in the blue hole in tiny two pieces next to muslim girls in long sleeve shirts and hijabs next to men in galabeyas and kaffeiyas (and, to my amusement, sometimes great big ol' aviator sunglasses) riding camels and horses down dusty roads between the sea and the mountains, jeeps packed full of people zig-zagging along the beach... lots of time for me to sit in my cognitive dissonance and think.

in sum, life is good. :) today we head to the pyramids and to find something for huckleberry and the woman at the post office, and j and i do our best to enjoy each other's company as much as we can to store up for the months ahead. while this week has certainly been a gift (and what a gift it is!) i'm sad to see it over.

probably won't have time to update again until i'm back in the states. stay tuned for photos (and edited grammar!) as always, thanks for reading.

a quiet morning at the villa (with an adventure on the horizon)

i posted a note on the first by dear jon higgins- be sure to read it!

i like doing life here. :)

right now, outside the window, the eesh men selling bread, the men with their donkey carts and their roasted sweet potatoes, the horse carts with green beans are wandering through the streets, all yelling out what it is that they're selling. the muezzin (or, as the case may be, the recording of a muezzin) call out the shahada at different intervals, each a few seconds or minutes off from one another, calling the faithful to join with the faithful across the world in bowing toward mecca, offering their prayers toward heaven...

there's an ahwa on every block, sometimes more than one. elderly egyptian men sit and sip tea from glasses, puff on their shishas and watch traffic and people walk by on the streets, kids play soccer in sandals and women hang their washing outside the windows of their flats to dry in the sun and the dusty air. men in galabeyas and kaffeiyas wander fairly aimlessly through the streets, families walk from the bread distribution center across from j's flat with arms full of eesh and ninjas sneak along the streets in the shadows...

life is more quiet here than in india. fewer horns, less traffic (yeah, that's right- i said it. there's less traffic here than in india- it's crazy though, because crossing the street here is MUCH scarier than india).

we had shwarma at niema's last night, with a can of fayrouz. everyone, be jealous. :) we've covered all the food bases so far save for falafel, or ta'miyya here in egypt- and i'm excited to attempt some of these things in our kitchen when i get back! (friends, get ready.)

this evening at 6pm we all hop on a bus and drive into the sinai. we'll arrive sometime in the wee hours of the morning, climb the mountain and wait for the sun. then, we'll go snorkling in the red sea and hang out on a beach. i love my life. :) thanks for reading!

ahlan min masr!

i'm here, in egypt, at long last. :) the past few days of my life have been as follows:

a wrap up to my india trip:
saturday morning: visit to pipe village/ NCL banda. jenni chelli came along, which was nice. i love my job, and i love being able to share my job with people i care about. it's also deeply, profoundly meaningful to be able to visit the same families in the same slums year after year, trip after trip. i wish i could put it to words, the feeling i get when i walk into a village and see familiar faces and can put names to them. (i'm sorry i can't post photos, but i will when i get home.) one little girl named mamta was so excited that i remembered her name that she walked around the village (pipe village) holding my hand and chatting away in a mix of telugu/ english for our whole visit. i am in love.

saturday afternoon/ evening: throw up. all the way to the base. in traffic from the sonia gandhi rally. the graduation ceremony was WONDERFUL. doug (el presidente) had asked us all to sit together as a staff, but as it turned out there were no seats to do that. which, much to my heart's content, meant i got to sit in the back with all the kids. :) i sat with rebecca, mamta, sangeeta and sangeeta's little sister deepa, all kids from the pipe village. we talked in telugu, a little in hindi, and in english, and true to indian style only paid attention when there was a song or dance on stage (shh, don't tell the bossman i just said that. it was all the kids, i swear! :)) when it came time for the students who were graduating to walk across the stage in their blue caps and gowns, i just sat with little 5 year old deepa on my lap with tears in my eyes, deep love and gratitude for sharing in this moment in my heart as i hugged this precious little one and told her i'd try to come back for her graduation from high school in 10 years. what an amazing experience to be a part of! ah!

and to watch kancha illaiah wipe tears from his eyes as he addresses the crowd, and bangaraju as he tells us he used to teach these kids, now graduating from high school the alphabet under a tree? priceless. i wouldn't trade those moments for the world.

saturday night: airport. all night. fly 3 hours to dubai.

on traveling:
sunday morning: spend 8-9 hours sleeping in the airport. find a starbucks and get a caramel macciato. pay "37" for that and a blueberry muffin- whatever "37" means. (edit a week later: it means 10$ USD. wish i had known that beforehand!)

sunday afternoon: 4 hour flight from dubai to cairo. arrive in cairo overwhelmed and unsure of the day or time. figure out how to get past "passport control" and find my luggage and my habibi. (p.s. it's cold here.)

on being here in egypt:
monday: spend a quiet day here, adjusting again to a time difference, a different culture and language and way of doing life. ate some tasty food, had my first glass of sahlab (sweet nectar from heaven!), lots of tea, and hummus (i got the hummus!) and eesh. (aaaiiiieeeesssshhhh!)

tuesday: play tourist! we visited 4 (count them: four) mosques yesterday. they are, and please forgive my poor spelling: mohammad ali mosque and the citadel, al rafa'i, sultan hassan and ibn tulun. i had an 'i love egypt' moment yesterday while climbing the minaret of ibun tulun right as mid-morning call to prayer echoed throughout the entire city. it was one of those existential moments where i step back, look at my life and my heart is filled with joy and disbelief that this really is mine, this gift is mine to enjoy and that i really am, wonder of wonders, here in cairo, climbing the minaret of a mosque from the 7th century. i have approximately 95 photos of the skyline from up in there, and some of them include THE PYRAMIDS! AH!!! it was nice to play tourist on a quiet tuesday morning, as it meant we only shared ibn tulun with an art class and maybe three or four other white people. (for the record, jRo, i think sultan hassan was my favorite.)

this morning: i'm here at the MESP villa. it's a little funny to walk in and have 30+ students know my name, shake my hand with a knowing smile and say things like, "we're so glad to finally meet you" or "we've heard so much about you." :) it's awesome to know that everyone here is excited about this and about me and j, but as with christmas it's also a little intimidating to feel like everyone here has heard so much about me- i feel like i've got a lot to live up to! :)

on food: we had koshari for lunch. i admit, i was skeptical. it was tasty though! then ful with eesh for dinner with jon's expat friends (who also have heard a lot about me- i feel like i should start baking people cookies for having to sit through so many stories! :)) then, of course, as is the national pasttime here, we had shisha. or rather, everyone else had shisha and i sat with my sahlab and watched them smoke, as my sinuses are having a bit of a tough time adjusting to the air quality here. (i'm sure we'll have other chances to smoke shisha anyway. i'm not in a hurry!) i am stoked for falafels (afelafelafels).

on being white: it's a little less painfully obvious here compared to india, but traipsing around yesterday was a bit tough for me. why God has given me a heart for places where i will never, EVER fit in i'm not sure. i'm learning to reconcile myself to that, to standing out like a big ol' huge freakin' sore thumb, but i think this will be a lifelong struggle for me: to want so badly to belong and to never really be able to do it. i'm already a little sick of being welcomed to egypt- almost as much as i am sick of being yelled at in passing in india, "HIHOWAREYOUFINE" and "WELCOMETOINDIAYOUAREFROMAMREEKAYES?"

having said that, it was fun to visit all of these places i've seen in grama's photos. yesterday j and i posed for a photo in mohammad ali similar to this one of grama kingsley. i definitely had fun walking through streets where grama has been, imagining her with her big hair and fabulous sense of 1970s style in this country, so new to me and so dear to her. :) juice naana, thanks again for tracking down her photos and sending them my way!

on the pyramids: uh, freaking sweet. we haven't actually been yet, but seeing them on the horizon? seriously. is this my life? really? is this REALLY my life?

on being in a land where j's heart is so alive: it's awesome. it's wonderfully awesome to be here, and i just don't even have words for what it does to see him wear his heart on his sleeve with confidence and love and a depth of knowledge i can only hope to aspire to. it does my heart well, too, to be with someone who is so at home in another part of the world. i'm so, so thankful for the gift of this week here with him, and this gift as a whole- this relationship that is so deeply good, and brings my heart so much unbridled joy.

in the words of dear shmem, 'praise the Jesus.' :)

all for now. tomorrow we leave for sinai- not sure when i'll be able to update again, but the length of this one will probably suffice until then- whenever that is!

in the words of jon higgins

this was written by a dear friend who is currently in india, and will be there for 3 months between finishing his undergrad degree and starting med school. this is his third trip with OM/ DFN, and there are few people that i have met with a bigger heart for the dalits than jon. he recently wrote this, and i wanted to share it here as it is a much more poetic account of graduation than i was able to offer a few days ago.

'under the tree.' -3.1.09

"Barely twice in a long time have I seen grown men cry. One was a lament. The other was a celebration.

The first was two years back, right before I first came to India. An international who had spent a short term trip here relayed vivid stories of how the people had captured his thoughts and heart. His crying, however, was a lament. A lament that he was tied down in America. That the sacrifice was too great, and his heart not willing enough, to give it all up for the people who broke his heart—destitute, downtrodden, oppressed, the laughingstock of their nation and communities, if anyone bothered to even laugh at them at all. Yet he couldn’t give it all up. I resolved that day to never have to shed the same tears.

His tears were tears of sadness. My tears were for my nation, whose members are like him more than we care to admit. Who are infected with the sickness of entitlement, the insidiousness of comfortability, and the gall to call insincere concern, sincere. Every day, I wish I could honestly tell myself I am not the foremost example.

The second was tonight. A local social worker here (B will be his name) is a dear friend of mine; we have spent many nights on medical camps to the local areas and communities he works in. Never have I met a more bubbly and sincere personality, a man who is so obviously committed to reflecting a great love to the five or six (or more?) communities in which he has been working for years.

I asked him, “Are you excited for tonight?”

“Ah, yes, of course!”

“You know some of the students?”

“Oh, ya ya..K..S..I used to teach under the tree only.” He gestured toward the nearest, which happened to be a mango tree. He meant that he used to home-school them in their slum area, where they lived quite literally in broken industrial-size cement piping, and had spent many a day with them before they began coming to our school.

“And tonight they are graduating, ya?”

“Yes, under the tree I used to teach, and now … graduating.”

Three hours later, during the first ever graduation ceremony celebrating the 43 students from 3 of our 80 schools here in India, I stood next to B. These children, who would otherwise be following the traditional occupation of their parents (which for Dalits is always the menial job), were instead graduating 10th class. B was standing off to the side, and I was taking a break from shooting pictures. His eyes were red, and he put his arm around me casually in characteristically Indian style. I mumbled something to him, and he replied simply but honestly:

“I am so happy…”

Nothing profound or abstract. Just genuinely happy. His tears came out of celebration, out of dedication seen coming to fruition, out of years and years of frustration and pain and pushing through a chronically pained shoulder, out of the heartbreak of working with children whose parents fall into the 880 million in India living on less than 50 cents per day. B’s tears were not for himself, but for the children.

His tears were tears of joy. My tears are for his nation, whose members are so in need but who have men like B to give them a hope and a future. Who have the nerve to make a commitment, and whose hearts are sacrificial enough to see it through. Who have honored me with the invitation to again join in their work.

Barely twice in a long time have I seen grown men cry. One was a lament. The other was a celebration. I have cried both before, and hope and pray that those to come may be only of the latter kind.